


Spoken Truth

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Derek Hale, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Damaged Derek Hale, Danger Kink, F/F, Female Derek Hale/Female Stiles Stilinski, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Self-Hatred, Short, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: It's almost like she's saying it to Stiles to convinceherself.--Or, cisfem!Derek/cisfem!Stiles have a little sex.





	Spoken Truth

**Author's Note:**

> [i know i already have a fic inspired by this song but i was listening to it and it gave me this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NC_his0-SKw)
> 
>  
> 
> [the name Dara for Derek was ripped from this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148517) (one of my favorites)
> 
> i'd imagine Derek's headspace as s1, but do whatever you want there's no references to anything except plain ole wolfiness here
> 
> content/tag warnings below

_I slipped my hand under her skirt_

_I said, "Don't worry, it's not going to hurt."_

 

* * *

 

 

                She twitches and tries to squeeze her legs shut, and Dara. Dara _knows_ she’s a virgin, she’s _very aware_ of this (oh, in the guiltiest of ways, oh, in ways of self-hatred, at the frustration of not being able to keep her fucking hands to herself), but this little movement sparks a touch of anger in her. Maybe it’s the way Stiles’ nervousness grates on her, sets her on edge, maybe it’s something else. But whatever it is, it makes her use her own knee to pin down Stiles’ so she can press them open, keep them that way. It’s what makes her tone a little harsh, not gentle, not what Stiles should be getting for her first time, when she grunts, “It’s not going to hurt.”

 

                She’s wet enough, Dara knows. She can fucking smell it.

 

                The scent of it crawls under her skin and she hates herself for liking the way it makes its home there. She likes the smell of it, likes the sight of it, wants to know the taste of it (knows she’ll like that just as well). It’s different and all too alike with the sourness that puffs up when Dara tries to spread her open, lay her out all vulnerable like she wants. Dara hates it as much as she loves it. There’s something delicious about that feeling in others, finally not just in herself, and something so downright disgusting in having to smell it in Stiles.

 

                Stiles smells it all too much, anyway. She’s already used to it, not only around herself (she would have _never_ – never _this_ – if that scent only came up around Dara), at the world at whole and large. There’s something comforting about that knowledge, just as it is horrifying, and gives her the bewildering urge to just tuck her up try this another time – when she’s not so fucking damaged to do it right, where it can be soft and sweet, and all too good to remember.

 

                But she knows that if she was soft and sweet, Stiles probably wouldn’t want her. But that’s okay – she’s never really been that way, even _before_. No matter what happens, how it goes down, even if she gets the chance to _heal_ or whatever such _bullshit_ , she won’t be _after_ , either.

 

                Doesn’t matter. All thought is lost, as is, when she finally slips her finger in and Stiles gasps with a sound that wavers, hitches, broken and whole at the same time. Fuck.

 

                (And isn’t that a _sweet_ thought; nothing is quite so important to take her attention from the way Stiles reacts to her.)

 

                The sound is just as tantalizing as her smell, which bursts, deeper and fuller with arousal, and Dara wants to _taste_ that too. She wants to swallow it whole, right from the source. She leans down just to do so, letting herself smirk so Stiles can feel it against her open lips. Plush and wet and bitten red, perfect and perfect – Dara _loves_ them. They taste –

 

                “There, see,” she purrs, and she knows she does, because when she slips her finger back, not quite pulling out, Stiles makes that sound again. She can feel the way it vibrates against her own mouth, and she licks her lips to quell the numbness it brings, letting her tongue slide across Stiles’ mouth as she does. Stiles, beautifully, arches, torso twisting when Dara teases another finger at her entrance, even if she isn’t ready for it yet – _Dara_ isn’t ready to _give_ it yet. “Doesn’t hurt.”

 

                Stiles’ eyes flip open quite suddenly at that, and in them, Dara can see a surprising amount of heat in them, different from the heat that should be pouring out of her, saturating her bed and the room at whole. A moment later, she can smell it, coming out of her in wafts, twisting and melding with the need, still present.

 

                Just as quick, Stiles has a fist in her messily tied up hair, yanking her back a couple inches from her face so Stiles can see her entire face. Dara, shocked, goes completely still at this, aside from the flashing of her eyes, both wolf and not.

 

                Stiles doesn’t care for her surprise, doesn’t even express smugness. She only hisses, and she shouldn’t be so threatening when her face is flushed so pretty, her lips wet from herself and Dara, but she _is_ , with that fire in her eyes, “Maybe it won’t,” – and she brings her free hand up to Dara’s shoulder, digging her nails in and clawing down her back, eliciting a jerk and shiver with a hiss of Dara’s own – “If you cut your goddamn fingernails next time.”

 

                Dara is released from her frozen spell at the end of that, and onto her lip curls something dark, but something that Stiles doesn’t even show fear over. She ducks down again, a little amused, a lot pleased that Stiles even lets her, to bite at Stiles’ lips. It’s completely unexpected when Stiles lets out a groan she can’t help at it, and that’s when Dara knows she has it in the bag.

 

                “Then you do it,” she breathes out, into, into Stiles’ mouth, and she gets a whole body twitch for that, from her legs to the tips of her fingers that twist, sinking nails even deeper into her back. Her finger, below, moves again, and when she pulls back once more, she is sure to press upwards, dragging against the ring of muscles that cling, squeezing in an attempt to keep her in, deep, secure. “I think you like it.”

 

                Stiles has nothing to say about that, not even an argument for the sake of it, and Dara feels entirely justified when she sucks her lip into her mouth. She thinks the silent message of, _you know that I’m right_ , gets right across very, very nicely.

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's not the fluffiest thing in the world. derek is really fucked up about wanting to sleep with stiles. feels like it isn't deserved. the sex is rough and has some scratching from both parties (there is no inner wall scratching). stiles appears and reacts to something angrily at one point, but derek takes it as for show (it kinda was), and stiles doesnt actually press it. 
> 
> basically. it's not vanilla fluffy first time kinda sex. 
> 
> regardless, i hope you have a good day.


End file.
